by Fiona Faris
“Dinnae fash, lad. She will come,” Ian reassured him laying a hand on his shoulder.
“We had a bit o’ a fight this mornin’ afore breakin’ the fast, and I have no’ seen her since. What if she decies tae change her mind? What if she is still angry with me and does no’ come?” His mind swam with the pain such a decision would cause.
“She’s carryin’ yer bairn, Duncan. ‘Tis unlikely that she would run off while in the family way, is it now?” James reminded him. Somehow that thought did not bring him any comfort. He wished for Marra to marry him because she loved him, not because she was carrying his child. James must have read his thoughts because he leaned forward laying a hand on Duncan’s shoulder. “She loves ye, Duncan. She loves ye in a way that few men could e’er dream o’, in a way that some men would willingly die for.”
Duncan studied James’ face. “Ye have given all for just such a love, yet ye kenned from the start that she did no’ love ye the same in return.”
“’Tis no’ required by the laws o’ man or o’ nature that she should return my love. ‘Tis only required in my heart that I remain true to it whether in passion or in friendship. Friendship is tae be my lot, and for that I am forever grateful.”
“Ye are a better man than I, James MacDonald. I am tae wed the lass ye love, I killed yer faither, and yet we are still friends. Ye have helped us tae survive, tae get tae this day. None of us would be here without ye. ‘Tis a debt I will ne’er be able tae repay.”
“Ye may get the opportunity sooner than ye think.” James frowned.
“Aye?”
“There have been challenges tae my position as laird. Some o’ my clansmen have discovered the truth o’ how faither died and have taken issue with my aiding another clan tae defy my faither. Blackmail is their current method o’ punishment, but it will no’ be long afore they decide tae wage war against me.”
“Can ye no’ take action tae prevent it?”
“I would if I kenned who they were. The threats have come by letter, with nae one steppin’ forward tae take responsibility. I have nae way of kennin’ how many o’ them there are, or if there is anythin’ tae be done tae appease them other than tae surrender the lairdship. The letters are unsigned and unmarked.”
“Ye cannae surrender the lairdship. It would be takin’ up by someone such as yer faither was or worse.” The idea of such a thing transpiring horrified Duncan. “No’ a one o’ us would be safe then.”
“I should be able tae root out the problem on my own, but should I need yer aid?”
“Ye shall have it without question. Ye need only send word, and we will come.”
“I thank ye, my friend.”
“No’ at all. ‘Tis I who owe ye everythin’. This day would nae be possible without ye.” Duncan moved forward, grasping James’ forearm. “Ye will get through this, just as ye will one day find the love that ye seek, a love that is good and truly yers.”
“Aye,” James smiled, lightening the mood. “I might steal yers back if she does no’ come tae wed ye.”
“Ye just might at that,” Duncan chuckled. He looked out over the land around the kirk once more searching for any sign of Marra upon the landscape. Sighing in frustration, he began to pace back and forth again. The sound of a horse’s hooves drew his attention, and he raced forward to get a better look. ‘Tis no’ Marra. His heart sank with disappointment.
“My Laird! My Laird!” It was one of the guards that he had left at the castle to escort Marra to the church. Grabbing the reins as the rider came to a halt, he demanded to know what had happened. The rider grinned from ear to ear. “The bairn is comin’! Ye are about tae become a faither!”
“’Tis tae early!” Duncan nearly shouted in concern.
A hand touched his arm, and he turned to find Idonea standing next to him having come out of the church at hearing the glad tidings. “Bairns come when they are ready nae when we think that they should, but we should make haste back tae the keep afore she has delivered it without us.”
Duncan nodded and took the horse from the guard, swinging the healer up behind him. “We will come as soon as we are able,” James reassured him and then slapped the horse on the rump, sending them on their way.
Duncan galloped as fast as the horse would carry him. His heart felt as if it had traded places with his stomach. He was frightened for the life of his beloved wife and child, and he prayed that all would be well in spite of the early date. When he reached the castle, he leapt from the horses back, lifted Idonea to the ground, threw the reins to a waiting guard, and ran the rest of the way to the bedchamber that he and Marra shared, following the screams.
Bursting through the door, he fell on his knees at her side taking her hand in his. Her face was bright red and drenched with sweat, tears streamed down her cheeks, and she groaned as the pain seized her once more. “I am here, my bonnie,” he informed her as if she did not have eyes to see it. He was so scared for her and the bairn that all he could do was press her hand to his lips and hold it there. He willed his strength into her as she panted her way through the pain.
“I am sorry that I could nae get tae the kirk,” she apologized when the pain eased.
“’Tis well, my bonnie. Dinnae fash. Ye had important work at hand tae be done,” he answered smiling.
Marra attempted a smile but did not quite succeed as another pain hit. Idonea moved forward and examined the situation. “Marra, love, ye need tae push. Bear down, lass, now.” Marra did so, yelling out with the pain.
“He is tryin’ tae rip me asunder!” she cried out, her eyes scrunched shut as she bore down with all of her strength.
“Aye, he is at that,” Idonea agreed.
With each pain that hit, Marra bore down hard, nearly breaking Duncan’s hand from the pressure of squeezing it. When the final push came, and their newborn son slid out into Idonae’s arms, Duncan felt as if his heart would burst from all of the love that immediately filled it upon seeing his son. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, and tears sprang to his eyes as Idonea laid the bloody, screaming bundle upon Marra’s belly.
“Ewen,” he breathed the moment his son opened his eyes and looked up at him. “His name should be Ewen.
“Aye, Ewen,” Marra whispered taking the squirming wet bundle into her arms and placing it at her breast. “’Tis the perfect name for our wee lad.”
“Aye.” Duncan watched as his son ate his first meal of many. “Have ye e’er seen anythin’ so perfect in all yer days?”
“Nae, I have no’. He is a braw wee lad is he no’, e’en with comin’ early as he did.”
“Aye, braw indeed.” Duncan leaned down and kissed the downy head. “Marra, love, ye have made me the happiest man in all o’ Scotland.”
“Shall we make it official then?” James’ voice asked from the doorway, the priest beside him.
“Aye,” Duncan answered grinning. “That is if ye still wish tae marry me?” he turned to Marra in question.
“Aye, o’ course I do, ye wee bampot,” she chastised. “Did ye think that our wee fight this mornin’ was enough tae make leave ye?”
“I had my doubts when ye did no’ come tae the kirk,” he admitted.
“Duncan MacGregor, I would no’ leave ye for anythin’. Ye are my love, my heart, my man, my husband, the faither o’ my child. Ye are good and truly stuck with me for the rest o’ yer natural born days and maybe e’en after that.”
Duncan grinned. “Aye, e’en then.” He leaned down and kissed her passionately. “Ye have given me the greatest gift that any man could e’er ask for.”
“And there are plenty more tae come,” she promised with a hint of mischief in her eye.
“Oh, aye?” he asked grinning.
“Aye.”
Duncan leaned down and kissed her once more. Behind him he heard the priest begin the marriage ceremony, and he turned to say the most important words he had ever, or would ever say, “Aye, I do.”
Extended Epilogue
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Afterword
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Do you want more Romance?
Turn on the next page to read the first chapters of my latest best-selling novel: Highlander's Forbidden Lass
It’s a story about a very fierce and strong-willed lass that was about to meet her match in a very handsome Scot, with a dangerously secret identity…
* * *
Highlander's Forbidden Lass
Chapter One
The sound of a heavy wooden door banging against a solid stone wall echoed through the massive halls of Inveraray Castle. It was a beautiful place, almost out of a fairytale, with twin towers at the front and back corners of the edifice and a massive face three stories tall before an even more elevated center. The castle of Clan Campbell was one of the most beautiful in Scotland.
Following the thunderous bang of the door, there came the quick shuffle of feet and the rustle of skirts along with it. Lady Claire Campbell stopped short when she looked upon her daughter standing before her; her dark curls askew, sweat glistening along her hairline, her pale face flushed pink, and a wide smear of blood across her cheek.
Lady Claire shrieked in horror and panic as she rushed to the young woman. “Madeleine! Oh, my lass! What happened to ye? Are ye hurt badly?”
The thud of heavy footsteps followed the woman’s scream, and in moments Laird David Campbell was standing near his wife, taking in the state of his daughter. “What in the name of all that is holy has happened?” He demanded, his eyes wide as he held his hands out toward Madeleine.
Madeleine raised up the pheasants she had shot. “I was out huntin’. I’ve brought these back.”
Laird Campbell’s eyes bore into those of his daughter. He was a big man, with the same dark hair as hers, and the same stubbornness and strength, though much of the physical resemblance stopped there. “The blood on yer face and yer skirts is no’ from hunting. What happened to ye?” he insisted. “Are ye hurt?”
Madeleine sighed, knowing that her parents would not be pleased with the truth. “Oh, I’m fine,” she began matter-of-factly. “It’s no’ my blood. I should have washed me’self better.”
Laird Campbell furrowed his brow as his gaze grew keener. “Whose blood is it then?”
“I was set upon…,” she told them, her tone little more than explanatory, “attacked by two men of Clan Arthur. They wanted a bit o’ me, but I took a bit o’ them instead.”
The Laird closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. “Clan Arthur,” he said quietly. When he opened his eyes again, there was sorrow in them. “Things have been so tense with them lately. I have been trying to broker peace with them.” He eyed his daughter curiously. “How badly did ye wound them? Or did ye kill them?”
Madeleine rolled her eyes. “They’re no’ dead, though maybe they should be. I only wounded them a bit.”
Lady Claire stared in utter disbelief at her daughter. “Ye… ye wounded them? What does that mean?”
A smirk played over the young woman’s face. “Oh, they’ll live. They will no’ be havin’ bairns, but they’ll live.”
Laird Campbell shook his head. “This isnae good. Things will be more difficult between us now.”
Madeleine shot her father a dark look. “They would have been worse for me if I had no’ defended me’self!”
The Laird nodded and opened his arms out to her, and she went into them. “Aye, I’m sure they would have been. I’m glad ye can defend yerself. I just wish it had no’ happened at all, especially with them. Things have been g’tting worse of late. They are pushing further into our lands, past our old boundary, killing farm animals, burning crops, injuring and killing our clanspeople. It seems that they want more, and they are willing to take it by force. I have wanted tae keep a peace between them and us, so we have only defended, and no’ sought any attack against them, but they keep coming. I’m afraid it’s going tae come tae a head. I am glad that ye were no’ hurt today. That would have been a breaking point for me.”
“I ken how to defend me’self because ye taught me tae.” She hugged him warmly and smiled up at him.
“What are we goin’ to dae with ye?” Her father let out a long breath.
Lady Claire was still staring at Madeleine. She’d barely said anything up to that moment, but in an instant, with wide green eyes, she grabbed at her fanciful skirts and yanked them upward slightly, just over her feet. “I’ll tell ye what we’re goin’ to do! I’m writing tae my sister in France, and I am going tae send ye tae her! We can no’ seem to make a lady of ye here, but mayhap, if I send ye there, she can right these wrongs and get ye married to a French nobleman! Perhaps then ye’ll settle down like ye should!”
“Mother no!” Madeleine protested vehemently, but Lady Claire raised one hand and held it up between them.
Laird Campbell frowned. “Why should she be wed to a French nobleman when she could have a Scotsman?”
Lady Claire was resolute. “There have been a few Scottish lairds who have been interested in her, but she has no’ wanted them!”
Madeleine crossed her arms over her chest as her eyes darkened. “I didn’a like any o’ them!”
Her mother glared at her. “Marriage is no’ always about love! I am sending ye to France so that ye will be away from the danger here, and so that ye can find a match with a nobleman who will bring ye great wealth. The partnership of a man with considerable more power than many of our own Scots here, and havin’ his support, would be a boon to our clan! Noblemen have access to armies, and if these skirmishes grow worse with clan Arthur, we would be able to better defend ourselves if ye were married tae a nobleman! This is about ye rising up in your station and in the ranks of society. ‘Tis about making the most of your opportunities and those of your family. ‘Tis about keeping ye out of so much danger and trouble! I want the best for ye and this is the way to dae it! Ye must marry upward.”
“But I dinna want to go to France! This is my home!” Madeleine insisted as ire burned deeply within her. “I am no’ a horse to be bred to the finest stud ye can find!”
“This is no’ up for discussion! Ye are a lady, and ye’ll go and learn to be one, and ye’ll go soon! No more of this!” With that, Lady Claire held fast to her skirts and sashayed straight up the stairs in complete determination.
“Father!” Madeleine spun on her heel and pleaded with him.
Laird Campbell bit his lower lip a moment and lowered his eyes sympathetically to her. “I’m sorry my dear, but I dinna think there’s anything I can dae to stop her.”
“I dinna want to go to Aunt Margaret’s!” Madeleine insisted stubbornly.
Her father shrugged. “Yer mother obviously has her mind set. Perhaps ye could make the most of it. ‘Tis better weather, and Margaret is a braw woman. She’ll take fine care o’ ye. She has a bonnie home, and it would be a new experience for ye. Spread yer wings a bit and see some of the world. That would no’ be so bad, would it? Be wild and free beyond these lands?”
Madeleine pouted angrily, but she considered it. “I have wanted tae see Paris,” she admitted quietly.
“Make the most of this opportunity, Maddie,” her father encouraged her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“I’ll make the most of the journey and the experience, but dinna expect me to tie me’self down to a husband!” She looked up smartly at him. “I’ve got a home here that I’m comin’ back tae.”
The evening before Madel
eine’s departure, she was carefully packing her traveling trunk when a knock sounded at the door to her chamber. A moment later, a beautiful face appeared from behind it. The girl, just a little younger than Madeleine, came into the room and walked over to the trunk, running a few fingers along the edge of it. Long waves of golden blonde hair lay over her shoulders and down her back to her waist. Her eyes were blue, and usually she wore a big, bright smile, but not on this night.
“Maddie, can’t ye make up with mother so that she let’s ye stay? I dinna want ye to go!” She pleaded with a sorrowful voice.
Madeleine sighed and shook her head. “I’ve tried. She will no’ relent. I’m so sorry, Fiona. She will no’ let me stay. I dae wish that ye were going with me, though. This would be a better journey if ye were on it with me.”
